It may look like a seven-eighths-scale Dodge Charger, but any other claim the Avenger may lay to its big brother’s well-earned reputation is a stretch.

What most damages the Avenger is its 173-hp, 2.4-liter “world engine,” built just down the road from us in Dundee, Michigan. It produces way too much racket—the noisiest in our group at full throttle and at 70-mph cruise. And the sound quality was alternately described as “walnuts in a Cuisinart,” “a weed whip with a loose spool,” and “four shot wheel bearings.”

What’s more, the engine felt overwhelmed in this package. To 60 mph, it was the second slowest in the group, and the four-speed transmission was often guilty of summoning the wrong gear. On backwoods roads, it was sometimes difficult to keep the powerplant on the boil, which at least mitigated the noise. The upside, however, was that the Avenger equaled the Camry for best observed fuel economy.

The Dodge lost points for its plasticky interior, with so many hard and angular edges that it resembled a gray Picasso. “There’s no common theme in here,” griped one editor. “Watch what your elbows bang into, because it’s gonna hurt.” With its squat, upright windshield and high beltline, the Avenger felt small, inside and out. And it wasn’t wholly an illusion. In this group, its back seat proved the most cramped for two adults, and the Dodge offered the least capacious trunk.

Which isn’t to say the car came up snake-eyes. The front-passenger seat folds flat, and the cushions are firm, with seatbacks that are supportive in the right places. The gauges feature easy-to-read black numerals on white faces. The steering proved agreeably accurate, with appropriate heft. You can store chilled drinks in the beverage bin. The chassis remained composed when called on to hustle. And our 22,000-mile test car was not only the least expensive in this group—by a wide margin—but also more rattle-free than the Camry.

Still, if you’re drawn to the Avenger, cough up the extra $1350 for the DOHC 2.7-liter V-6. It’s worth it.